That ole' noggin
by tiltingaxis
Summary: RE-UPLOAD The progression of Finn Hudson, Finn and Rachel and Finchel: a character study. AU as of the second half of season 2.


**A/N: So this was written prior to the whole Fuinn fiasco, and thus it's totally AU after Silly Love Songs. **

* * *

><p><em>Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and<em>_  
><em>_I've been locked inside that house all the while you hold the key__  
><em>_And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me__  
><em>_And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go, promise I'm going __  
><em>

Xxx

He's been thinking a lot lately.

And you can ask anybody in Lima who knows him, Finn Hudson doesn't think. Much. Thinking just leads to a whole lot of confusion and, from him especially, confusion leads to stupid questions. Stupid questions lead to eye rolls or heaving sighs or sarcastic answers and, if he's _extra_ confused, all three rolled into one. So yeah, he tries not to think that much most of the time.

But he can't help it this time. He's in deep shit. In fact, deep doesn't even begin to describe it. It's another word, a bigger and better one, which he needs to perfectly describe just how shitty his life is right now. Fucking glee club. What the hell did he do to deserve this? He's a decent enough guy (for the most part, when he's not busy pushing away the bile in his throat as he throws another loser into the dumpster), he's barely present enough in class to ever get in trouble in the first place, and well, he's doing the whole abstinence-or-whatever-the-word-is thing with Quinn, and seriously God. Isn't that enough of a good deed already?

How the hell did he even get himself in this mess in the first place? Well okay, he knows _how_, but like he told Mr Schue, that shit wasn't his! He wishes Mr Schue would just let him pee in a cup like he'd suggested, but then he'd probably still get in trouble for possession or something. He wonders who left that thing in his locker, 'cause he may not be the smartest guy out there, but even _he's_ not stupid enough to bring drugs to school. Must be the hockey team. Fucking Karofsky.

Yeah, Glee. He probably should be thankful that his Spanish teacher was cool enough not to bust him over this, but joining Glee club? It's social suicide. He might as well bring a huge ass sign to school tomorrow that says 'Lima Loser' and stick it on his forehead. The people in Glee, well he doesn't really know any of them, except for the gay kid whom he throws in the dumpster on an almost daily basis, and the wheelchair kid, 'cause it's hard not to notice someone when he's in a fucking wheelchair.

And Rachel Berry. Damn, that chick is weird. Just look at what she wears to school. Okay, so he doesn't really know much about her other than that she thinks she's going to be some big actress or singer or something on Broadway and that she's Puck's occasional slushie target practice. Also, Quinn kind of hates her.

See? These reasons alone are enough to make any normal dude want to run away. Add singing and dancing (_dancing_!) to the mix, and your reputation is pretty much shot to hell. This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea. The fact that this stupid club has got him thinking for this long just proves it.

He hates thinking.

Xxx

He really hates thinking.

Why can't his thoughts just leave him alone? They've been doing a good job of it for the last fifteen years.

"You're very talented."

But no one's ever said that to him before. Sure, she went on to talk about how talented _she_ was too, but the point is that she thinks _he's_ talented. _Him_, Finn Hudson. He knows he's the most popular guy in school and all, but he's never really had anything he could actually be proud of before. Things just kind of like, _happen_ in his life. He doesn't really have any control over it. Like being the quarterback. One lucky pass from him and one really, _really_ bad tackle for Tommy Jones and here he is, the football captain. Or Quinn. Once he made it as the quarterback, she had came up to him one day, told him her books were heavy, and the moment he walked her to class, they were already together. So yeah, everything is just sort of whatever for him. Even Glee, in the beginning.

Well, not _whatever_. Glee's more like an oh-my-God-my-life-is-over-what-the-fuck-am-I-_dancing_-right-now? way of getting thrown into things.

But then Mr Schue's moving away and now Glee's over and his life should just go back to normal right? It could be like this one dark blemish in his life, the-week-Finn-Hudson-was-in-glee-club. Like, nobody really has to know about it, because it doesn't matter that he loves to sing, or that those kids in Glee are kind-of-almost cool in an I-am-who-I-am kind of way. He's not that cool alright? He doesn't want to end his high school life at the bottom of the social barrel, especially since this is probably the only four years of his life where he'll actually matter to people. So yeah, Glee being over is a good thing. Isn't it?

But Rachel Berry is going around trying to start it up again, and he wants to ignore her, but how is he supposed to do that when she's telling him things like he's better than the rest of them. What did she mean by that anyway? How does she even know? 'Cause _he_ sure as hell doesn't. And why does he care so much that she said them? The girl is beyond freaky, and he's pretty sure she's obsessed with him or something. And the way she follows him around, and just randomly turns up every single time he rounds a corner (He checks his bed at night, true story), he should really just run.

Run, right now, run as far away as he can, because she scares him.

He doesn't though. He can't. Because the words "you're talented" and "you're better than all of them" keeps playing over and over like a stupid song he just can't get rid of, and the way she had looked at him when she said them, like every word that came out of her mouth was some undeniable truth, the memories just creep up on him no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. They're almost enough to erase the memory of Grease and of her crazy looking face as she almost took his arm off. _Almost_.

Thank God for that then, because he keeps reminding himself of what he's really losing now. And it's not being great at something, or having fun with music. Glee's not going to be the best thing that'll ever happen to him. It'll just be club where he'll be stuck with people like Rachel Berry who's crazy and stalkerish and intense and passionate and ambitious and- and-

Yeah, just stop thinking right there. That's it.

Xxx

_I gotta get outta here__  
><em>_Cause I'm afraid that this complacency is something I can't shake__  
><em>_I gotta get outta here__  
><em>_And I'm begging you, I'm begging you, I'm begging you to be my escape._

xxx

Screw this. Screw Puckerman. Screw _high school_. Just screw _everything,_ because he's doing this. He's doing this because he wants to, because he loves singing, he loves Glee and they can _do_ this. He's not sure how, especially without a teacher, and he's not sure how he's going to keep his ass from getting kicked _now_, but they can do this! They can because each and every one of them has got something worth fighting for in Glee. He's good at this, he kind of loves it actually, and for once in his sorry life, he _wants_ to do something, wants to be good at something. He wants to be great. They're going to be _great_.

Rachel Berry's smiling up at him like he just saved the world from an alien invasion or something, and it feels kind of good to have her smiling at him like that. She looks almost normal. Almost.

Xxx

_This room's too small, it's only getting smaller__  
><em>_I'm against the wall, I'm slowly getting taller here in Wonderland.__  
><em>_This guilt feels so familiar and I'm home._

xxx

Quinn's pregnant.

She's pregnant and it's his fault.

Fucking hot tub. How did it happen? He can't understand this. How? How? They've never even had sex yet, how can God possibly fuck him over like this when they've been doing that whole celibacy thing to please Him? Okay so she did it to please Him. He just did it because he had to. But is this God's punishment or something, because he wasn't sincere, because he really didn't want to not have sex? Is this what he gets for that?

How can you get pregnant from a hot tub? How can- maybe he should ask his Biology teacher about this, or Mr Schue or-

What is he doing? Why is he even thinking about this? How could he do this to Quinn, doubt her like this, when he'd been going off kissing Rachel Berry (don't think about that). She wouldn't lie to him. Not about this. This baby is his. There's no way out of it man. Take responsibility for your own damn actions and man the fuck up.

He's going to be a dad.

What else is there to think about?

Xxx

_I'm lost at sea,__  
><em>_The radio is jamming but they won't find me,__  
><em>_I swear it's for the best__  
><em>_And then your frequency is pulling me in closer__  
><em>_Til I'm home._

xxx

He didn't really know what happened. He was seriously out of it the whole time, but he's pretty sure he had made a big douche out of himself. But hey, if that secures them as winners in the Boys VS Girls mash-up, then whatever. Rachel keeps calling him F-Rod, which is real hyp- hypochondriacal? Hypothesis? Damnit what is that word she keeps saying- hypocritical! Yeah, it's real hypocritical of her because did she really think he'd be too stupid to know that the girls had been on something too?

So he's calling her A-Rach now, since one bad nickname deserves another and all that. He's pretty proud of himself actually. He'd spent a good amount of time trying to find a name that fits. He feels bad though, because Mr Schue had looked like he was so proud of them and the man just could not stop talking about how amazing the mash-up was and how his idea for the competition really brought out the best in all the glee clubbers.

Rachel fidgets in her seat when Mr Schue tells them that and her hands keep bunching up the sides of her skirt, her face grim. So he knows she's feeling just as guilty. The way she goes on the defence the second he brings it up pretty much confirms it. They're coming clean. It's the right thing to do. She tells him she's changed her goal to winning Sectionals. She says that she's thinking about the team now. He's thinking that he's so proud of her and that it feels weird. 'Cause usually, it's the other way around.

He wonders what Mr Schue will say when he finds out that they used drugs to throw off the competition. It's kind of ironic (that's the right word right? He should ask Rachel) that he was forced into Glee because of drugs, and now it's the same thing that made Mr Schue so proud.

Xxx

_Well I've been here before__  
><em>_Sat on the floor in a grey grey room__  
><em>_Where I stay in all day__  
><em>_I don't eat, but I play with this grey grey food__  
><em>_Desole, if someone is prayin' then I might break out,__  
><em>_Desole, even if I scream I can't scream that loud_

xxx

He just wants to stop thinking.

Can he do that? Is that possible? Can he just not think, like at all? He just wants to sit in his room and kill a million zombies and be a virtual superhero and just not think. He doesn't want to think about Dri- about the stupid baby and his bitch of an ex-girlfriend and his bastard of an ex-bestfriend and the selfish _assholes_ he calls his teammates and- and- he just wants to _stop_ thinking.

There's someone knocking on his door and he just wants to tell his mom to go away. But he can't do that. Not after all he's put her through. So he drags himself out of bed, he imagines himself as one of the mindless zombies he kills with his controller, and pulls the door open.

Rachel's standing in the doorway, looking up at him hopefully, a plate of double chocolate, chocolate chip cookies in her hands.

"Hi," she says tentatively.

He opens his mouth, trying to say something, trying to return her gesture and he feels like Frankenstein (Frankenteen. Ha. Ha.), like a big, douchey, brainless monster.

He needs to think.

"Hi."

Xxx

She doesn't get it. She's pushing him. She's pushing and pushing and _pushing_ and suddenly she's got him backed into a corner and she just _doesn't_ get it.

He can't do this. He can't pretend like he's happy. He can't keep trying to think ahead, trying to think of what she wants from him, because he doesn't. Want. To. _Think_.

A rockstar. Yeah. That's what he wants to be. Rockstars can be asses and they can do nothing and just be cool all day long and they don't have to think about what other people want or what they need and nobody messes with rockstars. Nobody screws with them, nobody screws them over and that's what he wants to be.

He wants to be a rockstar.

Xxx

_Waking up, on the wrong side of your mind.__  
><em>_How could I have been so blind, to see I'm losing everything?__  
><em>_Is it me, or is this over?__  
><em>_As I got sober, I watched you fade away.__  
><em>_Is it me, or is this ending?__  
><em>_As I was pretending, I watched you fade away._

xxx

_You're a scared little boy._

So the date with Brittany and Santana didn't go as planned. It's funny. All he wanted was to get away from Rachel and everything she wanted to give him. And now that he _is_ away from her, she's all he's thinking about. He thought breaking up with her (he still doesn't really know when exactly it was that they got together in the first place) was going to help with the whole not thinking thing. It doesn't. It doesn't help at all. Not when he's sitting there like an idiot while everyone around him is talking over him like he's not even there. Isn't this what he wanted? To finally be alone, to finally be free to do whatever the hell he wants without having to worry about how it might affect someone else (Rachel)? This is perfect, isn't it? She was the only one left hanging on to him and now she's gone and he's free. Isn't he?

Finally getting away from Rachel just makes him feel more alone than ever. He never cared when people talked over him before. He never really cared that they don't ever really listen to him. Now he does. Now he cares, and it's all Rachel Berry's fault.

_I just see you for who you are._

But how could she do that when _he_ doesn't even know who he is?

But maybe that's the point though. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's all about finding that someone who knows you better than you know yourself. Like Rachel knows him. He wanted to be a rockstar. But don't rockstars always die alone? Don't they always OD in some fucked up motel room when they're like, forty, or something? He doesn't want that.

It's been one fucking day, and he thinks he already misses her incessant chatter. Which is funny, since that had been one of the things that freaked him out in the first place, because seriously. How can one person have that much to talk about? It's like her brain never shuts up or something, and that freaked him out. Like, she could spend an hour talking about how her voice went sharp during a verse in Glee. One whole hour about five seconds of her life. He can sum his whole day up in ten seconds. Fine. Awesome. Boring. _Sucked_. But Rachel, she uses words, real words, half of them he doesn't even know the meaning of.

Like, "I believe that you have shown remarkable strength during this trying period Finn, and the restrain with which you handle yourself in the midst of Noah and Quinn is very admirable.", which he thought meant that she thought it was cool that he wasn't crying like a baby every time Quinn or Puck was around him. It was tiring, trying to even understand what she was talking about, let alone trying to keep up with her. And that Team Finn t-shirt she wore to his games. That was intense, okay? They barely started going out and she was already wearing shirts with his name on them? Who wouldn't be slightly alarmed by that?

Okay, so he freaked out. So maybe he should have thought about it more and not just run with the idea that Mr Schue had tossed at him. And maybe, well maybe he should have told what he felt to Rachel, instead of just letting her run around and do whatever she wanted with their relationship (So it's a relationship now?). Maybe if she had known how much she had overwhelmed him, she would have dialled it down a little. Maybe then he could have been happy about them too.

He thinks he misses her.

He thinks maybe his brain wouldn't be hurting so much all the time, if he lets his brain do some thinking once in a while.

Xxx

_Let down and hanging around__  
><em>_Crushed like a bug in the ground__  
><em>_Let down and hanging around__  
><em>_Let down again__  
><em>_Let down again__  
><em>_Let down again_

Xxx

He feels like crap. Like a total douchebag. An ass. Like every single insult that has ever been thrown in his face. He feels like a fucking idiot.

He feels like an asshole too, and he thinks that maybe calling out her name while he had his dick in someone else probably has something to do with it.

This is wrong. It feels so _wrongwrongwrong_. But he can't take it back. It's done. Over. Popped. Whatever it is people call it, he's not a virgin anymore. He thought boys aren't supposed to care about this. Isn't this supposed to be a good thing? Isn't being a cool guy all about how much tail he could get?

But all he can think about is her and how wrong it was and how _she_ wasn't _her_ and _he_ wasn't _him_ and now for the rest of his fucking life, he'll have to remember that the first time he had sex, it was in a seedy motel by the side of the road and it was with Santana Lopez and the single, coherent, word that had left his lips during all of that ten minutes was "Rachel".

And along with that, all he'll remember for the rest of his fucking life is how she gave hers away too. To someone who's not him, to that asshole who probably knew exactly what to do, who wouldn't ever fuck things up as monumentally as he did with her and who won't totally lose it when she so much as kisses him the right way. He's trying not to, but all he keeps seeing is _her_, he sees _them_ in her room, sees _him_ kissing her the way he should, touching her like he should, holding her like he should.

Jesse St. James.

What kind of a fucked up, ridiculously pretentious (He's using a Rachel word again. He needs to stop doing that) little name is that? And that hair. What, does the guy live in a hair salon or something? More like Jesse St, Douchebag. Or Jesse St. Jackass. Or Jesse St. he-got-it-right-the-first-try-with-her. Not like him, who kept screwing up over and over.

He wonders how she's doing. He wonders if she feels like throwing up the second it was over too. He wonders if she thought about him at any point, the way he had thought about her for every single second. He thinks he feels sick. He thinks he's screwed things up again, and those ten minutes of his life were the biggest mistake he'll ever make, that it was nothing more than sticking his dick in some meaningless girl.

He feels meaningless.

He feels nothing.

Xxx

_It hasn't felt like this before__  
><em>_It hasn't felt like home before you__  
><em>_And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel__  
><em>_This way__  
><em>_And I miss you more than I should__  
><em>_Than I thought I could__  
><em>_Can't get my mind off of you_

_xxx_

He loves her.

He knows this is true. Because after all the anger was gone, after the feeling of wanting Jesse St. James to bleed out of every conceivable hole in his body disappeared, all he can see is Rachel, looking down sadly at the floor, like she was a puppy that had just been kicked over.

And he thinks the way his heart literally felt like someone had clobbered it with a right hook is the proof.

He watches as she struts up that stage, proud and confident, in her tiny, _tiny_ shorts and her hair flowing all around her, and he feels a surge of pride at the way she bounces back so effortlessly.

_That's my girl_, he thinks as he walks out onto the stage. He gives everything he's got, willingly dancing like a fool to show these Vocal Adrenaline asses that he doesn't give a damn what they do. New Directions is stronger than any sabotage the other team could think of, and Rachel's stronger than any boy with an ugly reason to use her. He would know.

He's known he loves her for a while now. He's known it ever since she came up to him after her voice came back to thank him and to ask him what Sean's favorite song was. The way she had smiled up at him so brightly as she held on to the sleeve of his letterman had made his heart skip a beat as always, and the way she had proven to him once again, how big her heart truly was, that was the deal breaker.

She's laughing along with the rest of their friends as they leave a bewildered Vocal Adrenaline behind, and he watches as her smile falters for a second when her eyes stray to the audience once again.

"Hey," he says, nudging her shoulder slightly. She starts and turns around to look at him in surprise, before that huge beam is back in place.

"Your dancing has improved tremendously Finn," she compliments as they walk together toward the small makeshift dressing room.

"Thanks. Rach." He stops walking and grips her shoulder to stop her too. "You okay?"

She looks up at him, and they're staring at each other, straight into one another's eyes and he thinks he sees the hesitation that colors hers. He thinks his heart hurts just a little at that.

"I will be," she finally says, one hand reaching up to hold his gently. She takes his hand and holds it for just a little while longer than she should, before she lets go and continues walking. She's been messed up again.

He loves her.

And maybe one day, she'll want to hear it.

He'll wait this time. He'll do it right.

Xxx

Best. Summer. _Ever_.

That's how he'll describe it when he's like, fifty or something, and he's really old and there's nothing left to do but sit around and think about the best things in his life. Hell, that's how he's describing it _now_.

He's happy. She's happy. And they're _happy together, _and it's pretty much perfect right now, when he can kiss her anytime he wants to. Like, _anytime_ he wants to, even when she's in the middle of some long rant about Broadway or Glee club or global warming, he can just swoop down and lay one on her and she'll turn bright red before she starts giggling and leaning up to _kiss him back_.

It was the second week of summer, when they were both sitting side by side in front of her television, watching Grease 2 for the first and last time in his life, that she did it. They hit a lull in the movie and she had nudged his shoulder, and with the brightest beam he had ever seen on her face, told him she loved him. And she had hid her face in his shirt in embarrassment when he hounded her to say it again.

"I love you," she mumbled finally, the words muffled by the fabric of his shirt, her voice reverberating through his chest. He figured that feeling he had was _beyond_ happy, beyond ecstatic and he had pushed her down to lie back on the couch in surprise before he kissed her with as much passion as he could muster-and believe him, there was a _lot_- until she gently pushed him away, gasping for air. He had a shameless grin plastered on his face for the rest of the day. At one point, that grin had infected her too.

It's pretty cool how happy she makes him. And how happy he makes her. He's thinking that this is perfect, that _they're_ perfect, and he's kind of okay with perfect for the rest of his life.

This summer is full of Rachel, Rachel and Rachel. And he doesn't want it to ever end.

Xxx

She tells him their kids are going to be Jewish.

He wonders how much he needs to earn to throw a Bar mitzvah. He should ask Puck.

Do girl Jews have Bar Mitzvahs too? He'll ask Rachel instead.

xxx

"_You're so kind and open. It's made me want to be a better person_."

He thinks she's amazing. She's beautiful and she's crazy talented and she has the _biggest_ heart (although sometimes it goes to the wrong places) and she loves him more than she probably should. And when she tells him he's better than he thinks he is, he thinks it could actually be true.

She's one of a kind, and he knows there's never going to be another person in his life like Rachel Berry. She makes him want more; she makes him want something better.

So when she tells him that? When she says that he's kind and open and when she says that _he_ makes _her_ want to be better?

Well he thinks it's why he loves her more than he should too.

Xxx

_The perfect words never crossed my mind_

'_Cause there was nothing in there but you_

_I feel every ounce of me screaming out_

_But the sound was trapped deep in me_

xxx

He feels something coming, and he feels that it's going to be bad. And maybe it has something to do with the fact that Santana Lopez just came on to him at his mom's wedding for God knows what reason, and then suddenly threatened to turn his whole world the wrong side up by blowing their little stint out of the water, when he tells her to leave him alone.

Or maybe it doesn't.

Maybe it's because Kurt's moving to another school just when he finally got his act together to be his big (literally) brother and he realizes that fucking Karofsky just won again.

Or maybe it isn't.

Maybe it's the way Rachel had looked at him the night of the wedding when they had snuck off to his new, still empty, room. Maybe it was that smile, filled with want and need and _trust_, when his hands were under her dress, desperately trying to trail over every inch of skin he found and she pulled away to quietly tell him that she loves him. "I love you too," he told her breathlessly as her body arched against his hands and she smiled again when she told him that it was going to be perfect. Maybe it's because he knows what _it_ is and it _isn't_ going to be perfect. It can't be, because he fucked that up months ago.

Or maybe it isn't.

Or maybe it was because he should have opened his fucking mouth right then and there but he didn't.

Or maybe it isn't.

He doesn't know what it is. But he knows when the feeling started though. It started in the middle of the hallway at school, when she had turned to look at him, upset and sad, and when she told him that she had never been so disappointed in him.

He feels something bad coming. She told him she'd never been so disappointed in him. She really has no idea.

Xxx

_I can't be as sorry as you think I should_

_But I still love you more than anyone else could_

_All that I keep thinking throughout this whole fight_

_Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right_

xxx

Everything he told her was the truth.

They weren't together. She had no right to be pissed at him, not when she was dating Jesse St. Dickweed, not when _she_ lied to him and told him that they were having sex. And it was also true, that she didn't care about the fact that he had sex, as much as she cared that he did it with Santana. She had no right to be this high and mighty about it.

She had no right to be this upset, to ignore every one of his phone calls or to only speak to him when every single word was dripping with contempt. It was a mistake. How can she not know that?

Everything he told her was the truth.

Except, the truth came out six months too late.

If he was so right, then what was he so afraid of? If he was right, then why did he spend their last six months together pushing away and ignoring that dark cloud hanging over them, pretending it never happened? If he was so right then why did he feel that twisty guilty knot in the base of his stomach when he said all those words to her?

Why was he so afraid of the truth? Why was he so afraid of her knowing?

Maybe, his brain tells him, maybe he's not so right after all.

But it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter anymore.

Because she did what she did. And no amount of thinking can change that.

Xxx

He thinks he's already forgiven her. It took him a while, but the image of her and Puck doesn't automatically flash through his brain anymore the second he sees either one of them. Maybe this makes him an idiot. But hey, he already is one anyway.

He thinks he forgives her.

He just can't trust her.

But maybe it's for the best. Because who is he kidding? Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry? Did he really think that was going to last? She's bigger and better and she shines brighter than anyone he has ever known. And him, well he's... Finn. He's a loser jock that's going to end up with a loser job, and losers like him just don't belong with winners like her.

He's had some time to think. She's going to Broadway. She's going to be a star. And what's he going to do? Follow her to New York? What's he going to do there? And what if he doesn't get there? Is she going to be stuck in Lima then? He thinks his head might be spinning from all this thinking. He wonders if he's thinking too far ahead.

But she talks about getting married at twenty five and having kids together and winning Tonys, and he's never questioned it before. But what if she can't have both? What if it's him or Tony? He's not good for her. Maybe being with him is going to turn her into someone else entirely.

When this is over, when school is done, she's going to be even better. But maybe four years is all _he_ gets. Maybe six months with Rachel Berry is all he really gets. Just four years of high school. Two years left, really. Two pretty useless years if you think about it, but he's not going to. He's going to make it count.

She told him once that her dream was bigger than this place, bigger than him. He's going to make sure that's still true.

It's a good thing she doesn't really love him then. Well, she thinks she does, but he'll help her figure that out.

Xxx

_She looks like the real thing__  
><em>_She tastes like the real thing__  
><em>_My fake plastic love__  
><em>_But I can't help the feeling__  
><em>_I could blow through the ceiling__  
><em>_If I just turn and run_

xxx

It all started with a kiss.

Actually, it all started when Mr Schue and coach Bieste decided that combining the football team with the glee club was a good idea. To be honest, he didn't think the idea was so hot at first. But hey, he was the quarterback and he was the co-captain, so it was really his job to back them up. Two years left remember? He's making each and every second count.

So he stepped up. And it felt good to do it. All he needed was just to remind himself that this is all he gets, and it was easier to stand up to Karofsky, easier to tell these people to back off. And then the football team bailed. And the Cheerios bailed. And he was screwed.

But when Rachel saved them, both Glee and the football team, that was when he realized that he could really do it. He could save them too. So he stepped up again.

And then Quinn Fabray kissed him.

_That_ was when it got confusing.

She took him by surprise and then he couldn't stop thinking about her. What if it was her all along? What if Rachel was the fluke? Maybe Rachel wasn't supposed to happen. Maybe it was always supposed to be him and Quinn. If Rachel hadn't come around then he'd still be with Quinn. She'd still be with him, because they needed each other. Four years remember? They were good for each other because they'd make those four years count. They'd leave high school with a bang together and then it'll all be over.

But he doesn't love her. He knows he doesn't, because he loves Rachel, but Rachel's not an option anymore. But Rachel doesn't love him either, so what the heck right?

"You do realize this makes me a cheater?" she asked him in the auditorium. Yeah. That's wrong right? Cheating? But everyone's doing it though. Maybe it isn't as bad as he thought. Maybe being the one someone cheats with for once instead of being the one cheated on is a good thing. Plus, she kissed him anyway so obviously, it wasn't such a pressing concern for her. So maybe trying to do the right thing is overrated, because it sure as hell doesn't feel like that's what everyone's trying to do. So he should just stop trying, right? He fucks things up when he does, he fucks things up when he doesn't, so why bother?

But karma's a bitch and all that. And it figures that he'd be the one it wants to bite in the ass.

Fucking mono.

When Rachel came into the nurse's office and asked him about fireworks, he said nothing. A lot of it had to do with the fact that he was too incapacitated to speak. Even when he was sober, words have never been a strong suit. But also, there are no words when it came to them. Just feelings. Just lightness and floating and her soft skin and ultimately, just his brain exploding. See? Words? Not good with them.

She left before he could even begin to articulate those words in his head though, and he almost stopped her. Because it's not true what she thinks. She thinks he doesn't care. But he does. He just wants to keep her safe; he wants to keep her dream safe. She just needs to see that he's a bad idea is all. She left and he didn't say it though.

Because maybe that's for the best. He thinks the whole helping her realize she doesn't love him thing?

It might be working.

Xxx

"You got what you wanted."

"And what is that?"

"Sam and I are over."

_Oh_.

"Oh."

She stares up at him, her eyes bloodshot but inquisitive as he leans against his locker.

"Why do you want to be with me?"

"Why do you want to be with _me_?" he counters. Her expression goes from demanding to uncertain in a second.

"I- I like you."

"Just not enough to break up with your boyfriend, right?"

"That's not fair. I-"

"Why did you kiss me Quinn? That first time?"

"I wanted to."

"Just like that?"

"Finn-"

"We can be good for each other. We can rule this place together. That's what you want isn't it?"

She eyes him again, her features unreadable.

"You've changed."

He shrugs, and shoots her a half smile.

"Maybe."

Xxx

"Do you like him?" He turns to look at her, confused, as they sit side by side on the stage.

"Who?"

"This person you're trying to be."

"It's still me Rachel."

"No it's not. You've changed."

"Not you too," he grumbles, turning away. He should have left the moment she finished her new song.

"What happened to you?"

"Drop it."

"No."

"_Rachel_."

"No. We are friends. And friends say it when their friend is acting like someone else. And you're not acting like _you_ Finn. I know you and you're different."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought. Did you ever think about that?"

"No. I _know_ you."

"Drop it."

"Finn-"

"I'm leaving."

Xxx

Spinning. The whole damn room is _spinning_ and his head feels like it's about to explode from all the throbbing it's been doing.

"Dude, you are so fucking _wasted_," he hears Puck mutter as both him and Mike sling one of his arms across their shoulders.

"Wha..?" he slurs, the sudden brightness blinding him.

"Sleep it off man," Puck says as they throw him on something soft. It takes him a minute, and one very strong stench of dirty gym socks, to realize that he's in his bestfriend's room. He opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, groaning as he turns his head to see the almost life-sized poster of Megan Fox- post-Jennifer's Body- glancing down at him sultrily.

Megan Fox reminds him of that robot movie, and _that_ reminds him of... something about fuzzy pink sweaters with giant red bows and Rachel's living room, and Grease 1, and then Grease 2, and that's where things get hazy, but whatever it is, it comes down to Rachel. And Rachel reminds him of the last time they spoke four days ago, before he started avoiding her.

What was that she wanted? He can't remember. Something- _something_- she wanted to know what happened to him. That's it. It takes him five minutes to get his phone out of his jeans. It takes her thirty seconds to answer his call.

"Finn?"

"It's you," he mumbles, shielding his eyes from the brightness by throwing his free arm over his head, his legs spilling over the edge of the bed.

"Excuse me?"

"_You_ happened. You messed everything up Rach. It was _sooo_ simple. It was me and Quinn and high school and _you_ came and changed everything. E_ver_y. Thing. "

"Finn, you're drunk," she says softly and it makes him giggle like a maniac for some unknown reason.

"Totally," he mutters, calming down and pressing the phone to his ear. "But listen, _listen_! You _never_ listen!"

"I do too!"

"No no no.. You _don't_ Rachel, you never _listen_ to me but- but" he hiccups and groans as his head spins again.

"But it's you, _you_ happened. And it was awesome. And _then_ it _sucked_. And then it really, _really_ sucked. So- Hello? Hello? _Heyyyy_ you're supposed to listen!" He slurs angrily at the phone as he pulls it away from his ear.

She hung up. It's so typ- so ty- she always does this. _Fuck_, he can't think anymore. His brain's not working. Sleep. Yeah. That's a good idea.

xxx

It's been two weeks since the choir room. Ten days since that stupid, _stupid_ phone call he barely remembers. Seven days since she saw him in the hallway and stopped short, before turning around and walking away. One day since she left the note in his locker, telling him to meet her in the auditorium the next day.

Thirty minutes after he spent his time pacing outside the door, wondering what he was going to say when he sees her. Twenty minutes since she walked briskly past him and told him to come in and sit down. Ten since she walked up the steps and told him to listen. Five since she started singing.

He can't take his eyes away from her. There is no music this time, because Brad's not here. All he hears is her voice and her words and even though he's told her time and again that she'll come up with something good, he's still blown away.

Her eyes are closed as she sings, one hand gripping her shirt tightly, right over where her heart lays, and it's amazing how she just gets through to him. She _gets_ him. Even when she doesn't mean to. She's finishing up. He knows this because she slows down and the frown lines on her face are starting to disappear and when she opens her eyes, she stares straight at him.

"That's it for now," she tells him hesitantly as she stands awkwardly up on the stage. "What do you think?"

"I-" he begins, trying to come up with something that doesn't sound like he's a blithering idiot. "It's _amazing_, Rachel."

"Really?" she asks, looking down at him almost as if she doesn't believe him.

"It's awesome," he assures her, grinning proudly. She wrote that. She _wrote_ that. All by herself. She beams at him happily, before a frown threatens to appear and she speaks again.

"It's not about you," she tells him quickly.

"I- I didn't say it was-"

"Okay. It's a _little_ about you," she cuts in, ignoring his reply as she walks quickly down the stage towards him.

"But you don't have to worry Finn, I didn't write this for you or because of what you said. It really-"

"Rachel," he cuts in softly when she reaches him, holding out an arm to tug against her hand. She looks down at him hesitantly.

"I believe you," he says, smiling. She attempts to reciprocate, but it turns into a grimace instead.

"Good," she answers softly, before sighing and plopping down on the seat next to his. "It's not done yet. That's just the first verse. And a little of the chorus. And I don't really know how to go on, so it might turn out horribly-"

"It's going to be great."

"But-"

"Trust me."

She looks at him. The moment lasts for longer than a second, and the doubt in her eyes kind of makes his stomach turn in a really bad way. He knows this is because of that phone call.

_It's a little about you_, she had said. It wouldn't be right to let her think that.

"You were enough," he says quietly, turning his face away from her to stare at the ketchup stain on his jeans. "You got us right, Rach."

She says nothing for the longest time. She doesn't move.

"Then _why_?" she finally says, the minutes of silence a wall between them. He finally turns to look at her and smiles. He hopes it doesn't look as bad as he feels. She's staring at him intently, her eyes huge and wondering. He stands and stalls for a few seconds before he looks down at her.

"_My_ good isn't good enough."

Xxx

_But it was not your fault but mine__  
><em>_And it was your heart on the line__  
><em>_I really fucked it up this time__  
><em>_Didn't I, my dear?__  
><em>_Didn't I, my dear?_

xxx

He's going to kill Kurt.

He's sitting out here in the cold, waiting for Blaine's car to arrive because Kurt Hummel is a fucking _idiot_. He sees the headlights down the road and stands up anxiously, walking up to the pavement to wait for them.

"What happened?" he demands, the moment Kurt steps out of the car. Kurt looks up at him, scandalized.

"She tried to hit on the bartender," he says dramatically in a stage whisper. "He had tattoos all the way up his arms Finn. And moustache. A big, hairy moustache."

"She _what_? Where the hell were you guys?"

"Well-"

"It's my fault," Blaine cuts in. "We just wanted to celebrate a little for the win at Regionals. Well, for _your_ win at Regionals."

"So you got her _drunk_?" Finn asks sourly, peeking at Rachel, her body curled in a fetal position in the backseat. Blaine looks at him guiltily and Finn clenches his fists tighter. He likes the guy and all, but why does it seem that _every_ time they're together, Rachel gets wasted?

"I-"

"It was just two wine coolers Finn," Kurt cuts in.

"Well clearly, she's a lightweight!"

"Oh spare me the lecture. Weren't you the one who threw up in Carole's Rhododendrons a few weeks back?"

"Yes, Kurt. 'Cause that _really_ is the point-"

"Hey, I think she's awake." He looks up at Blaine's words to find Rachel sitting up in confusion, one hand gripping the side of her head. Without a word, Kurt stalks to the passenger side and yanks the door open.

"Where am I?" he hears her mutter.

"At my house. I told your parents you're sleeping over. You're going to stay with Finn, kay? Sleep it off."

" 'Kay."

"Where are you going?" Finn asks his brother, surprised. Kurt casts a sidelong glance at Blaine, who's singing along to Katy Perry on the radio, before he turns to his stepbrother with pleading eyes. Finn sighs as he gently pulls Rachel out of the car.

"Kurt,"

"Finn this may be my only chance!" Kurt hisses. Rachel's arms are curled around his neck and he can't really think straight right now as he feels her warm breath against his skin. His grip on her tightens as he sighs again.

"Fine," he says. "Just don't come home so late."

"Yes mom," Kurt answers, rolling his eyes, smiling.

"And if that Blaine guy tries anything-"

"Oh I'm counting on it."

"Oh. _Eww_ Kurt."

"Thanks for helping out Finn. Mercedes and Tina's parents watch them like a hawk and the rest, well..."

"Yeah I get it. Go already."

He watches them until the taillights disappear. Rachel stirs in his arms and pulls her head back from the crook of his neck to look at him.

"_Heyyy_," she slurs, beaming. "Hey Finny! How'd you know I wanted to see you?"

She's looking at him, confused, with her arms around his neck and his arms around the rest of her body, and it's so much harder to ignore the tension when it's just the two of them.

He's going to _kill_ Kurt.

It takes him almost ten minutes to get her up to his room because she keeps wiggling her body around and slurring incoherently into his neck, and at one point, he's almost positive she was sniffing him.

"_Rachel_," he groans, when he finally reaches the bottom step and her hands curl themselves around the back of his neck. "You have to stop moving around."

"But _whyyy_?" she whines, throwing her head back to pout at him, her eyes unfocused.

"Because you're killing me," he mutters, pulling her body closer against him to keep their balance. She blinks rapidly before yawning and burying her head back in his neck. He sighs, wondering why it feels like the Dude Upstairs just loves messing with him. Of course she'd get drunk the one night his mom and Burt aren't home, and of course Kurt's going to dump her ass with him. On second thought, this is all Kurt's fault.

He's going to kill Kurt.

"What happened to never drinking again?" he asks her wryly, as he finally sets her down on his bed. He lets her go, but she has a tight grip around his neck and she's not budging.

"Hey Flynn," she slurs. _Flynn_? "Do you know that some people call alcohol liquid courage?"

"It's Finn," he answers, amused. She's undeterred by the slip up. He's close enough that if he just turns a little to the left, their lips will be touching. He hasn't been this close to her in months. He thinks there's still a hint of that Rachel Berry scent through the smell of alcohol.

She really is going to kill him.

"Thas wha' I saaiiid. Finny Finn _listen_ to me!"

"I'm listening, I'm listening" he assures her, gently prying her fingers apart. She releases her hold on him, and turns face up on the bed, sighing. He stretches his legs out along the side of the bed, unaware that one of his hands is still in her hair as he leans against the wall.

"Well I decided-" she hiccups. "That _that_ is _exactly_ what I needed."

"Why?" he asks, closing his eyes as he lets his head fall against the wall. He hears her shuffling on his bed and is startled to find her face once again inches away from him as she leans forward. She's smiling at him softly, one hand pressing against his chest, right over his furiously beating heart and he can't breathe.

"So I can talk to _you_ silly. You're so silly Flynn," she mumbles, grinning at him manically as she pokes him in the chest repeatedly. "_You_," she slurs as she wobbles. He grips her shoulder to steady her and she takes that as an invitation to crawl down the bed and into his lap.

This is a really, _really_ bad idea.

"You're an idiot Flynn Hanson."

He bursts out laughing and she glares at him angrily. But she doesn't look quite so threatening when she's completely plastered. She's the worst drunk he's ever seen, and he pushes the urge to lean in closer away.

"I know," he tells her softly, one hand rubbing her back gently as the other keeps a firm hold on her. She's not going to remember this tomorrow anyway, and it's not like they're doing anything inappropriate, other than the fact that she's straddling his lap, that is. But he's not going to go and do anything really stupid, so whatever.

"No you don't," she mumbles. "You really _don't_."

"Okay, so tell me," he says, humoring her. She pulls back and looks at him seriously.

"You don't know how good you are," she says and he immediately looks away.

"Rachel-"

"_You_, Finn, you are- you are _awesome_!"

"And you're totally wasted."

"You're my _best_ friend. You- you believe in me. _Me_." Her voice is muffled against his shirt but he hears the tone of wonder in it, and he'll never understand how she could possibly think that he'd feel otherwise. Of course he believes in her. She's the best person he's ever known. "I'm sorry I ruined your life, because- because you make mine- like, so awesome. Like everything is just- _pink_, when I'm with you, you know?"

"Pink?" he asks, confused, both by what she said and by the way his brain seems to be overloading with information.

"Yeah," she says enthusiastically, nodding her head profusely. "Like really, _really_ _awesome_ pink and- and I can't- where did all my words go?" she finishes, looking confused and upset.

"You need to sleep Rachel."

"No. No I need to tell you something."

"You did. I heard you."

"_No_. No there's more. There's something-_something_ about you being the _best_ and teaching me how to care and- and I can't remember the words for the rest."

"It's okay."

"It's _not_."

"I know Rachel. Trust me." She looks at him then, and her face stretches into a sunny beam as she throws her arms around his neck.

"I do," she says happily. "I trust you."

She burrows herself further into him, and he lets her rest her head against his chest, coaxing her to stretch her legs out into a more comfortable position. She sighs against him and he listens quietly to the pattern of her breathing as it evens out.

"I love you Finn," she mumbles suddenly. He feels his heartbeat accelerating, and he wonders if she can feel it when she's wasted. He holds his breath for as long as he could, looking down at her sleeping figure. She's really asleep, he thinks. It's safe right?

"I love you too."

He thinks he could feel the words echo around them, and how can a whisper sound so _loud_? She stirs and is silent again. He drops his head back against the wall and sighs.

Xxx

They sit side by side on the hotel couch in silence. It's been awkward the past month, ever since he woke up on the floor of his own room with a blanket tossed over him to find Rachel Berry gone, and Kurt snappishly asking him on his way to the bathroom later, why he'd let her crash on the couch. He said nothing, mumbling some lame excuse as his face burned up at the memory of her warm body pressed against his the night before.

They've been walking on eggshells around each other ever since, neither one mentioning, or even indicating, that that night had ever happened. He thinks she was waiting for him, but he couldn't do it, he couldn't go there.

There's been a giant, _pink_, elephant whenever they're in a room together ever since. He figures neither of them are fooling the other, but the game's still on anyway. He casts a sidelong glance in her direction to find her gazing pensively into the lobby. She'd been acting weird lately. She's been quiet these few weeks. And she's Rachel. She's never quiet.

He wonders when the rest of them will come down. They've been waiting at the lobby for close to ten minutes now. He looks up at the clock over the concierge's head and sighs. He knew it when Mr Schue told them to be back in the lobby a half hour after they checked in, that it was just not going to happen. Now he's here with Rachel, because of course, she was going to be on time and where the hell is everyone else? He should have done what Kurt was doing when he left and changed or something, instead of just throwing his bag on the nearest bed and bouncing out the door.

"I can't believe that Nationals is tomorrow," he blurts out, trying to fill the awkward silence with _something_. She turns to look at him and smiles.

"Yeah," she agrees. And nothing.

"We're in New York City! This is crazy," he continues boisterously.

"I always knew we'd get here, you and me," she tells him confidently, brightening up until she realizes her words and frowns again. "I'm sorry. I meant-"

"That's awesome," he says quietly. "That you thought that."

"Finn, of course I did."

"Well that's awesome," he says, offering her a small smile. She returns the gesture, placing one small hand over his lap.

"We should get this over with," she mumbles suddenly. Before he could say a word, she takes a deep breath and turns her body towards him.

"Finn, about that night, a month ago," she begins.

"Don't worry about it," he says quickly.

"I can't remember much, but I just wanted to apologize for being the needy girl again."

"What? No- I mean-"

"You told me yourself that I get needy when I'm drunk, and from the look of things when we woke up, I seemed to have thrown myself on you. I'm really sorry Finn-"

"Rachel," he says firmly, cutting her off. "You were not being needy. At all."

"Oh. Okay. Well then- that's it then, I guess."

He bites his tongue and nods dumbly, ignoring the sigh that leaves her. Awkward silence ensues.

"Finn," she starts again hesitantly. "There's something I have to tell you."

"What?"

"I'm coming back here." He smiles, preparing himself for another Rachel Berry speech of making it in the Big Apple.

"I know."

"No. No I mean I'm coming back here soon. In the summer." He stares at her dumbly for a few seconds. She can't seem to meet his gaze as she stares fixatedly at something on his shirt.

"What?" he asks finally, when his power of speech finally returned.

"I- There's a summer program here I was accepted to. I'll be leaving the first day of summer vacation." She ends the sentence with a smile and he tries his best to wrap his brain around her words.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That's- All summer?"

"Until school starts again, yes." Her expression turns anxious, and what the hell could he say to that, really? Every bone in his body is straining to demand for an explanation, to ask her why she never told him any of this until now. He restrains because the answer is right there. He's lost the rights to know anything about her a long time ago.

"That's awesome," he replies weakly, pasting a smile on his face. Her eyes snap up towards him and they stay that way for a few seconds, with that dumb smile on his face and that unreadable look ion hers.

"That's it?" she finally hisses, glaring at him.

"What?" he asks, taken aback by her hostility.

"I tell you I'm going away and you say that it's _awesome_?"

"I- don't you _want_ to go away?"

"That is not the _point,_ Finn Hudson!"

"Well then _what_ is the point?" he asks angrily, annoyed at her anger when _he's_ the one that was bombarded with this news and _she_ was the one doing the bombarding in the first place! She's looking at him, her face impatient and her arms folded defensively over her chest and he's honestly confused, and highly pissed, by her anger.

"This is about you, telling me you love me and then _pretending_ it never happened!"

"What?"

"What?"

His head had snapped directly to her face the moment the words left her mouth, blood draining from his face. She has both hands clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide as she looks back at him.

"I- I didn't-"

"Yes you did," she answers quietly with a sigh. "I told you I love you, and you said that you love me too."

"Rachel-"

"And don't tell me that it was all just my imagination, Finn, because I heard you. And I know it's true because I remember exactly what it felt like when we were on the floor and when I woke up, we were still there. So I know, that I wasn't hearing things-"

"You were drunk," he tells her dumbly. Wait a second. "Weren't you?"

He sees the guilt passing over her face in a fleeting second, but before he could say anything else, Mr Schue cuts him in.

"There you guys are! We've been waiting at the coffee house for forty minutes!"

He turns to see their teacher walking briskly towards them, and the rest of the glee club behind him.

"I thought we were supposed to wait at the lobby."

"Yeah, but I called and told everyone the coffee house instead. Rachel, you didn't get my message?"

He turns to Rachel, who nods her head quietly and walks toward his stepbrother and Mercedes to join the rest of the group.

"Sorry Mr Schue. I guess we lost track of time."

"It's okay. Just next time guys? Please stick to the schedule kay?"

A chorus of yeahs and whatevers follows and he hangs back, walking at the back of the group to stare at her determinedly bowed head.

She played him.

Xxx

_No amount of coffee, no amount of crying__  
><em>_No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine__  
><em>_No, no, no, no, no,__  
><em>_nothing else will do__  
><em>_I've gotta have you, I've gotta have you_

xxx

"Were you even drunk?" he asks bitterly.

"_Yes_," she insists, as she continues to pace rapidly back and forth in front of him. He sits unceremoniously on his bed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I just- I needed to talk to you, and I needed a plan-"

"So you pretended to be drunk?"

"I _wasn't_ pretending!" she exclaims, stopping in front of him to stomp her foot. "Well, not exactly."

He sighs tiredly, pressing the palm of his hand against his temple.

"Can you stop pacing? You're giving me a headache."

She stops, takes a deep breath, and sits on Kurt's bed. She had forced her way through the door fifteen minutes ago, telling him that Kurt's been told to crash with Mercedes if the need be, because they need to have this conversation. She has a key, but she won't use it because she was trying to respect his privacy – at which he rolled his eyes - , and just in case he had bolted the door – he hadn't-.

So he opened the door and stalked off to his bed in anger while she came in and started pacing, immediately telling him that refusing to talk to her the entire day was juvenile and that they needed to approach this issue like adults. Yeah. Because pretending to be drunk to get a confession out of someone was such a mature move.

"Finn-" she begins softly.

"I can't believe you tricked me!" he yells angrily, unable to hold it in any longer as he stands and picks up where she left of, wearing out the carpet with his pacing.

"I was desperate! You wouldn't tell me-"

"You don't get to do that Rachel! You don't get to trick people into telling you what you want and get away with it. You don't get to- _God_! You _always_ do this."

"I do not!" she yells indignantly, standing up and walking towards him. He backs away, out of her reach, still seething with anger and frustration. He runs a hand through his hair furiously as he turns away from her.

"Yes you do! You- you do stuff to get things your way and you _can't_ Rachel, alright? You can't, like, play with people like this."

"I was not playing with you-"

"Do you know how stupid it makes me feel, when I realized that you just fooled me again?"

"Finn-"

"_No_," he cuts in furiously, not allowing her a word in edgewise because of he doesn't say this now, he'll never say it again. "No you don't get to do this. You don't get to trick people into telling you they love you. You don't get to- to cheat on someone to make him just to make him jealous, or- or _push_ someone into a corner until he tells you how he feels. It doesn't _work_ like that!"

"Well _how_ does it work then?" she demands angrily, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face her. "Should I be like you? Just keep quiet and bottle everything up inside, and _never_ ever just show how I really feel?"

"I don't do that," he snaps. She laughs humourlessly as she lets him go and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Oh please, Finn. You're the best at never letting anyone know how you really feel. Is that so much better? Is pretending like you don't care and acting like _nothing_ matters so much better than what I've been doing?"

"I don't-"

"I needed a _reaction_, Finn," she continues rapidly as she moves closer towards him, her eyes flashing with emotion. "Do you know how hard it is to never ever be sure of where you stand? You told me you loved me. You said you loved me, but you didn't love me enough to tell me the truth?"

"I didn't want to hurt you!"

"Then _why_ couldn't you have told me that? Why did you wait for _days_? How could you leave me in the dark-"

"I tried to tell you. You never listened to me!"

"_Why_ couldn't you have tried harder?"

"Why couldn't _you_ have just listened?"

They're both so close to each other by now, their chests touching as she leans up and he bends down, both angry and out of breath. It feels like they both become aware of the close proximity at the same time, because both immediately springs back. Rachel returns to her position on Kurt's bed as he leans against a wall on the opposite corner, fists clenched, trying to force his heartbeats to return to normal, staring determinedly at the grey carpeting. He hears her sniffling and snaps his head up to find her looking at him, tears running down her face.

He feels the anger leave him, and all that's left is just exhaustion.

"Rachel," he says quietly as he slides down to the floor in a crouch.

"I just – I want to be Finn and Rachel again," she says softly, her voice thick with her tears. "Why can't we just be Finn and Rachel again?"

She looks at him earnestly as she slides down the bed and leans against it, both her legs folding neatly under her skirt, and he straightens his out into a more comfortable position as he sighs.

"Rach-"

"I thought I understood," she continues quickly, ignoring him. "Honestly, a few months ago, I was perfectly fine in letting you go. Well, not perfectly fine, actually not fine at all, but regardless, I was prepared to, because I had assumed that that was what you wanted when we broke up. And when it looked like you wanted to go after Quinn... it had hurt, you know? But I thought you moved on."

He closes his eyes and leans back as he listens to her, wondering why she's the only person who will ever be able to corner him this way. He should have known she'd never let him get away with anything so easily.

"But you- you've been Bipolar Finn for months now-"

"Bipolar Finn?"

"Yes. Hot and cold. Rapidly changing mood swings. One second you're saying that I'm the best person in our school, and the next you're sneaking kisses with Quinn. You tell me you believe in me and then you tell me I'm needy. You say-"

"I get it, Rachel."

"Sorry. But- but I began to see a pattern there."

"A pattern."

"Yes. You, being supportive and a strong advocate when it came to the further advancement of my inevitable career, and then completely pushing me away when it becomes personal. And then- that phone call-"

He groans, burying his face in his arms as he pulls his knees up, his face burning at the vague memory.

"And- and that conversation in the auditorium, the one we had when I showed you the song I wrote- everything-" She stops talking, and he looks up to find her looking helplessly back at him. He doesn't think he's ever seen her this incoherent before.

"It just- everything _clicked_ Finn. And I – I realized that you did still love me. You _do_ still love me. And all I wanted was to be sure. So when Kurt suggested, well Blaine did, that we celebrate our win for Regionals with a little rebellious drinking, I took that as an opportunity. I did plan on talking to you that night because I thought that with a little liquid courage, I'd be able to get through it, even if you pushed me away again. But-"

She scrunches her nose up in distaste at a memory, pulling her knees up to rest her chin. He tries to ignore the way her bare legs are on full display.

"But I think there was something stronger in those drinks than your typical wine cooler because everything became tipsy after a while and I might have tried to get the bartender's number. You should have seen him, Finn. His name was Michael and he had tattoos all along his left arm, and a-"

"Moustache, I know."

"Yes, and everything was a blur after that, until the moment I saw you, and you had so chivalrously carried me to your room."

"It wasn't chivalry. I was just being a good friend."

_A good friend you're in love with_. His brain needs to shut up. She's slowly inching herself towards him, almost like she's afraid he'll scram if he notices or something. And he's not going to lie, with the way his heart feels like it's about to beat right out of his chest, he would have if he isn't already glued to the wall.

"I had a speech prepared," she tells him as she stops in front of him, her hands folded in her lap. "For when I see you. But I couldn't remember any of it because-"

"Because you were wasted," he says, smiling ruefully at her for the first time since she came to his room. She smiles back in obvious relief before giggling softly.

"Yes, I was quite inebriated."

"You called me Flynn."

She groans, hiding her face in the palm of her hands in embarrassment. He laughs as he nudges her knee with his foot. She peaks at him from behind and grins, before sobering up immediately.

"But I do remember telling you that I love you Finn, because I was in your arms and you weren't pushing me away and it was warm and comfortable and- that was all I could say then."

She watches him carefully and he knows what's coming next.

"And you told me you love me too. I know you did. You did, didn't you?"

He sighs as she scoots a little closer, knowing that denial will be pointless by now.

"Yes," he finally admits, trying to ignore the way her face instantly lights up. "But it doesn't matter Rachel-"

"Why? Because you're not good enough for me?"

She says the words contemptuously as she frowns at him.

"I- Yeah. "

"That's bullshit."

He looks up at her, surprised, but she seems to be undeterred.

"Yeah, you taught me that," she confides and he rolls his eyes.

"See? I've already got you swearing now."

"You want to know what else you taught me?" she asks slowly, and he knows this is where she tries to convince him that he's wrong. And he knows he'll probably end up believing her, because this is Rachel and their history has proven time and again that every word out of her mouth is an undeniable truth for him.

"You taught me that there was more to me than my talent. Because you became my friend not because I had a beautiful voice, or because of my flawless performances, you became my friend because-"

"Because you were hot."

She stops talking, startled by his admission, and he shrugs, feeling his face burn up at the sudden outburst. A slow grin spreads over her face.

"Because you actually liked me," she continues confidently, moving in even closer.

"Of course I liked you."

"Not a lot of people do."

"Well you have to admit that you're kind of...intense. It can be a little- weird."

"But you liked me anyway."

"I- Yeah."

She's right in front of him by now, one hand reaching out to hesitantly touch his knee before she pulls it back again and folds it in her lap.

"I came back to Glee because of you," she says, straightening up and looking him in the eye. "I would have never done it for anyone else but you. And regardless of how much it hurt then, it was one of the best choices I've ever made."

"Rachel," he begins quietly, trying his best to ignore the fact that she's close enough to catch her scent. She smells like Rachel, like nothing he can put into words except that it's the best smell in the world and when she's close to him like this, it's always easy to forget why he's doing this. "We'll never work."

"Why not?"

"I- we- if I don't get out of here-"

"I like the Rachel I was when we were together," she admits suddenly, looking down at her lap.

"I- what?"

"Well, at least, the Rachel I was becoming," she continues, ignoring his blank expression as she stares at the wall behind him, her hands twisting the fabric of her skirt nervously. "I- When we become friends, I wanted to change. I wanted to be more popular, well I've always wanted that, but I wanted to be more like the Cheerios, like Quinn. I wanted to be prettier-"

"You're beautiful," he blurts out again. She turns to look at him and smiles ruefully and he knows she doubts it, just like she always does, which is stupid of her, because she's better than all of those Cheerios _combined, _and he doesn't understand how she can't see that.

"I never wanted you to be different," he tells her indignantly. "If I did I wouldn't have liked you in the first place."

"I know, Finn. Why do you think I love you so much? You made me feel good about myself, you know? And well, I liked that Rachel, the one who doesn't have to pretend to feel comfortable in her own skin, because it's hard to be yourself and to be ridiculed for it. And for the first time ever, I care. I care about what happens to you and- and whether you're happy and it was... refreshing, to care for someone else other than me. And being with you, it made me care. And sometimes I care too much, I know. I always did do everything too much-"

"Rachel-"

"And I know what I did was _terrible_ Finn," she says earnestly, shaking her head at his interruption as she sits up to kneel in front of him, both hands gripping his knees tightly. "I _know_. I regret it every single second. And that's exactly it. I don't want to be that person, the old Rachel who was so afraid of getting hurt that she'll be the first one to strike. You made me see that I could be better than that, that I could- that someone would love me for my own merits and that I don't need to- to do things like get a teacher fired or- or sabotage an exchange student for you to notice me." She's fired up as she talks earnestly, one hand gesturing wildly in the air. She turns to look at him, and the next words come out quietly. "Or for you to love me. So you may think I have changed, and maybe I have, maybe I care more now."

She smiles at him and he doesn't even realize the fact that his hands are over hers.

"It's not so bad, right?" she asks in a whisper. He shakes his head.

"And frankly," she continues, slapping his knee a little in the process as she frowns at him. "I don't like the Finn _you_ are when you're not with _me_ either."

He doesn't know why he laughs at that, why he doesn't find it as insulting as he should. Maybe it's because he doesn't really like the Finn he is either.

"Do you really think we'll never work?' she asks quietly, a million different emotions running through her face. He says nothing and stares at their intertwined hands, somehow coming together when he hadn't notice, before he straightens up.

"I don't know," he answers, just as quietly. She nods her head at that, her expression contemplative.

"Do you love me?" she asks, scooting over to sit next to him against the wall, their hands still firmly clasped together. He smiles at her, his lips pulling upwards to one side.

"Yes," he admits.

"Well then-" she inches closer, her face determined as she tugs on his hand like she's demanding him to listen, as if he isn't already doing that right now. "Then if it was up to me, don't I deserve to be with someone who loves me, more than _anyone_ else? Who- well who believes in _me_ and who thinks I can do _anything_ I want?"

Well. She got him there.

"Rachel-"

"And you do too Finn. You deserve someone exactly like that too, because you might not believe it, but I do. I believe that you can be _anything_ you want to be."

"Even a doctor?" he jokes feebly.

"Well- you're going to have to work very, _very_ hard. And maybe you know, cut down on those video games and _listen_ in class for once-"

"I'm kidding, Rach."

"Oh."

It's silent for a few seconds and he wonders how late it is. Nationals is tomorrow and doesn't she like, need her beauty sleep or something?

"You should go to sleep," he tells her quietly. "I think it's like, one in the morning or something."

"But-"

"We'll talk again tomorrow, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Okay."

She nods her head and stands, stretching her tiny body. Her shirt rides up and he gets a fleeting look at the expense of skin above her skirt and looks away. He stays rooted to where he is as she slowly walks to the door. She turns around to face him again once she reaches it.

"I'm going to be a star, Finn," she tells him confidently. And he smiles back, because he _knows_ this. "With or without you, that's never going to change, because that's just who I _am_. But when I'm Just Rachel, I wanna be with Just Finn."

Shooting him another unreadable smile, she turns and slips quietly out the door.

Xxx

_There's a drumming noise inside my head that starts when you're around__  
><em>_I swear that you could hear it,__ i__t makes such an all mighty sound_

_As I move my feet towards your body__, __I can hear this beat it fills my head up__  
><em>_And gets louder and louder__, i__t fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

Xxx

She's leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow. Ten hours from now. Is he really just going to leave things as they are? He remembers Nationals, remembers blurting out some crap about needing time, remembers the downcast look on her face as she tells him that well, they'll have a whole summer's worth.

A whole summer.

One entire summer without Rachel.

What is he doing? Is this what he wants? Of course not. But she's leaving.

_Yeah, well don't you think that you should tell her how you feel now? _

She already knows how he feels.

_One entire summer away could change everything dude._

No it can't. She knows where he stands right? She knows he loves her. He just needs time to process all this- this _confusion_ in his head. She deserves to be with someone who loves her. And he loves her. He does.

_When I'm Just Rachel, I wanna be with Just Finn._

And he loves Just Rachel. Just Rachel is who he wants to be with. Not Rachel Berry, star of Glee or future Broadway queen. Not that he doesn't love those parts of Rachel too. He loves all of her. But yeah. He loves Rachel. Just Rachel.

He can do anything, right? She thinks he can do anything. So maybe he can do this. Because _God_, he wants to do this. He wants to do _this_, with her, so _badly_. She says she likes the Rachel she was when she's with him, just as much as he likes the Finn he was when he's with her too. Maybe they really are meant to be together.

Just Finn and Just Rachel.

He wants to. Hewantstohewantstohewantsto-

He _wants_.

_So what the hell are you waiting for dumbass?_

He lunges for his phone.

"Pick up," he mutters as he speed dials her and waits for an answer. "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

She doesn't pick up. He looks at his alarm clock. It's almost midnight. He types furiously on the keypad.

(Where are you?)

"C'mon Rach," he mutters nervously. "Answer."

The phone beeps and he stares at her name, his heart drumming furiously in his ribcage. This is it. Now or never. He opens the text before he could chicken out.

(Home. Why?)

Of course she's at home. It's almost midnight_. Duh, Finn. Duh_.

_Now or never, Finn_. It's now or never. He stares for a little while longer at her words. Home. She's home.

In a flash, he gets out of bed and shrugs on his jean jacket over his McKinley sweatshirt. This is it. He's doing this. He better do this quick too, 'cause time running out.

He's not sure how he got there. One second he was running out the door, the next there he is, out of breath and standing in front of her door, his bike thrown carelessly on the front lawn. His heart is drumming, louder and louder, the closer he gets to her and as he listens to the ringtone. The sound echoes in his brain, completely deafening.

"Hello?" The heart stops drumming. It skips a beat. "Finn?"

"Come out," he tells her before he could think.

"What?" She sounds confused. _Of course she'd be confused. You're standing in front of her door in the middle of the night like some creeper and telling her to come out._

"I'm- I'm in front of your house-" He lets out a nervous laugh before he reigns it back in. "In front of your door actually. So come out."

She says nothing for the longest time, and he thinks his heart's about to burst from the pressure, until he hears the vague sounds of her footsteps running down the stairs. His heart skips a beat again, and it totally feels like it's playing one of those crazy fast songs, like those music people use for dancing, the one where it gets faster and faster the longer it goes on until you can't think and-

She throws the door open. She's out of breath, standing there in pink pajamas with huge purple hearts printed all over, her face filled with both confusion and wonder.

"Finn, what are you-"

He doesn't know what she's about to ask him, he doesn't care because his heart just burst into about a million pieces as he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her hard against him. He hears a tiny gasp before his lips are on hers, pushing furiously, urgently against hers, because the drumming in his heart won't stop and he needs to- he needs to-

He _needs_.

She freezes for just a few seconds before she's pushing back just as hard, both her hands coming to rest around his neck. He feels her straining against him and pulls her up higher, pushing her back gently to rest against the doorframe. She pulls against his hair and he's _missed_ this. He's missed this so, _so_ much. He feels her tongue running through the seam of his lips and pulls away, gasping.

She stares up at him, her eyes glazed over. They're both breathing hard and he thinks there's a burn somewhere in his chest at the way she's looking at him, with her hands still buried in his hair, and his body pinning her against the doorframe. He leans closer, resting his forehead against hers, trying to get his heartbeats under control. It's one o'clock in the morning.

"I love you," he whispers. She lets out a tiny little gasp at his words and instantly, he sees the tears filling up her eyes. He brushes his lips softly against her again, feeling the way her body trembles against him.

"I love you," he says, one more time, because he does, because he wants to tell her before she leaves, because his heart is telling him that if he doesn't-

"I love you too," she says, her eyes shining.

"I had to tell you," he says breathlessly. "I had to tell you before you go. I love you, Rachel. I-"

Her lips are on his again, and she's pulling him in even closer, and he's losing it. He doesn't care that they're still kissing by the doorframe and that anyone can see him sticking his hand up under her shirt because it's one in the morning anyway. He doesn't care that her dads- fuck. Her dads. He pulls away quickly.

"Your dads-"

"Come in," she says softly, as he releases his hold on her and she grasps his hand tight.

"What?"

"Come in," she says again, her eyes dark and warm and he really, really wants to.

"But your parents."

"I think we have a few hours."

"Okay."

She takes his hand, and he follows her blindly into the dark house, painfully aware of his huge and clumsy body, and he hopes he doesn't accidentally run into anything or make any noise because he really, really wants to stay, and he doesn't think finding him sneaking into their daughter's room in the middle of the night will go down well with her parents. Her hand is warm in his and he tries to stay as quiet as he possibly can, trying to not _breathe_ if it's possible, as he follows down the familiar route that leads to her room.

She pushes him gently inside, and suddenly he can see again, as she turns on the lamp on her side table. He remembers a time where he thought he'd never, ever be here in this place again. He never thought there'd ever come a day where he's glad to see that ugly, creepy looking baby doll again. It's still as creepy as he remembered.

Rachel sits at the edge of her bed and smiles nervously up at him, patting the empty space next to her.

"Sit."

"Kay."

He walks slowly to where she is, feeling his heart start that funky beat again as it beats erratically against his chest. They can't exactly fall back into old routine, can they? He sits next to her, leaving an inch of space between them just in case.

"I'm leaving in seven hours," she says quietly.

"I know," he tells her, his voice subdued. She turns to him suddenly, grabbing his hand and pulling it onto her lap.

"I'll call you," she tells him earnestly. "Every single day. And- and you'll call me too, right?" She looks at him uncertainly, her voice hopeful.

"Yeah, yeah of course." She beams at him, and there's really no other choice but to beam back, because yeah, it sucks that she's going away and all, but they're together again.

They're together.

"I'll email you my itinerary as soon as I get it, so you'll know what I'm doing at all times and when to call. Also, if you're planning to get a job this summer, please don't forget to inform me of your shift, so that I can synchronize our schedule."

He stares at her, completely taken aback by her no-nonsense attitude as she continues telling him exactly how this summer is going to work for them. The grin on his face spreads slowly, from one end to the next as he lets her voice wash over him. They really are back together.

"I'm going to miss you," he says in the middle of her speech and she stops talking, turning to look at him in surprise.

"Rachel, are you crying?" he asks, alarmed as her lips start to quiver.

"No," she mumbles. "I'm just- I'm happy." She smiles up at him, her eyes shining with tears, but she's smiling, _beaming_, really and so he smiles back in relief.

"Me too," he agrees, whispering conspiratorially against her ear. He's about to tell her that this summer will be awesome, even if they're not together, but he doesn't get to because she's tackling him to the bed, kissing him furiously.

"We'll remember this night forever, won't we?" she mumbles against his lips as she straddles him, and he's too busy gripping her hips to steady her to say anything. He grunts an agreement instead.

It's easier to fall into routine than he had originally thought.

They're going faster than he thought they would.

Her soft, small hands are urgently pushing up the t-shirt he's wearing as her tongue swirls circles around his and they need to stop _now_, because he's got one hand splayed across her back to press her against him and the other's creeping upwards. She moans into his mouth when it reaches her ribcage and she pulls away, trailing her lips down his neck instead.

"Rachel," he breathes. "Baby we have to stop."

She pulls back, staring down at him in surprise.

"What did you just call me?" she asks. It's hard to concentrate, hard to remember, when she's straddling his waist like that, and when all of the buttons of her pajama top is open and he gets an amazing view down her bra. But he tries anyway.

"Rachel?"

"You called me baby," she says, her voice still laced with that tone of wonder.

"I- yeah."

She grins down at him.

"I missed that," she confesses.

"Me too," he answers, chuckling as she lies back down on top of him, resting her head in his chest. They stay quiet for minutes, one of his hand pressed against her back and the other tangled in her hair as he calms down.

"Your heart's beating really fast," she whispers.

"Yeah," he answers quietly, holding her tighter against him.

"We'll do it right this time, Finn. Okay?"

He smiles. They'll do it right this time. He sure as hell is going to try his best to.

"Okay."

Xxx

_Hope, dangles on a string_

_Like slow spinning redemption_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: None of the lyrics belong to me, because sadly, I'm not that good. LOL**


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